


Slow Hands

by ididthatonce



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC Universe, DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Lazy Mornings, Light Bondage, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, the lightest of bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 04:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ididthatonce/pseuds/ididthatonce
Summary: Felicity and Ray have an ongoing tradition where they stay in bed as long as possible on Sunday mornings.  Whoever gets out of bed first has to make the other breakfast.  Sex ensues because of course it does.





	Slow Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Niall Horan song of the same name because, screw you, I dig songs about handjobs.

Ray and Felicity developed a Sunday morning tradition soon after they started dating. They had a contest to see who could stay in bed the longest. They would let the hours creep by until it was well into the afternoon, just talking and drifting in and out of sleep. It was the one moment in their hectic, type-A lives that allowed them to relax and ignore their troubles. Whoever got up first had to made the other breakfast.

Ray’s eyes flutter open to see Felicity reading one of the trashy pulp novels she adores. “‘Morning” he grumbles, stretching his arms above his head.

She smiles at him. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

He yawns in response.

She rolls over to face him, abandoning her book in order to place her free hand on the small of his back. He chuckles. She brushes his nose against his, drawing her body in closer. “I’ve been thinking about this for hours.” she whispers, her lips just a few inches from his.

He chuckles again, wriggling his body flush against hers. “Thinking about what?”

She kisses him and snakes her hands up his back. “This.” She responds, throwing her leg over his hip. His hand grazes her knee, holding her in place. It traces her thigh, over the curve of her hip, up her back and into her tousled blond hair. He stares at her for a moment, eyes still glazed over from drowsiness.

She giggles and pulls him in for a kiss. His breath is sour from sleep, but she enjoys the taste nonetheless. He attempts to roll over on top of her, but her leg has him pinned. Instead, they wobble slightly, shaking the bedframe. She breaks the kiss and presses a finger to his lips.

“Not today.”

He gives her a quizzical look, almost pouting. She grins and breaks away from his embrace to rifle through the drawer in her nightstand. The blanket slides off her hips and Ray’s delicate fingers trace her spine down to the swell of her ass. To punctuate the sentiment, he gives her a gently spank, which elicits a surprised yelp from Felicity.

She rolls back over, kicking the sheets off both of them. Brandishing a handful of small plastic packets and an old necktie, she sits upright, tucking her feet underneath her.

“I want to try a thing.” She begins weakly. Then, shaking her head, she self-corrects. “I want to try something different today. I’d like to tease you, explore you…” she trails off, trying in vain to come up with a third synonym.

Ray nods. “All that sounds good. But what is…” he gestures at the supplies that have since been unceremoniously dumped between them.

Felicity smiles and bites her lower lip. She points to the plastic packets. “Flavored lube. The blogs say it’ll help with my pesky gag reflex.”

He makes a choked sound that turns into a gulp.

She picks up the necktie. “Now this is to make sure things move at my pace.” Her voice drops to a deeper, smoky octave. “Wrists, if you don’t mind.”

He presents his arms to her, and she gently wraps the fabric in a figure-eight, tying the ends into a loose bow. She slides two fingers in between his wrist and the necktie and, satisfied with her findings, slides them out, giving him a gentle pat.

“Comfortable?” She asks.

He shrugs. “Relatively speaking.”

She smiles and carefully moves his arms above his head, allowing them to rest in just such a position that his biceps look particularly appetizing. Glancing his body over one more, she rolls him onto his back.

She has always slept naked, while Ray prefers some kind of loose boxer short. He is wearing a navy-blue pair with tiny planets and stars dotting his hips and thighs. They’re a particular favorite of his, and have started to show some wear around the edges. The center is already starting to tent, and Felicity licks her lips in anticipation.

But first, her attention is drawn upwards. She finds his face again, and traces his strong jaw with the lightest of touches. His morning stubble is apparent, and leaves little scratches along her palm. Cupping his chin, she presses a gentle kiss into his lips, keeping enough of a distance to prevent him from returning the kiss too deeply. He strains to open her lips more, but she pulls away, allowing his head to thump back into the pillow. Once he’s adequately frustrated, she kisses him again, just as soft and gentle. This time he doesn’t try to deepen it, but instead mirrors her delicate technique.

Satisfied, she traces kisses down his neck, nipping as she goes. His pulse is pounding, and she feels a surge of power while placing a hand onto his chest, feeling his heart race. Her lips find his chest, the faintest traces of jet-black hair scattered in between his muscles. She licks, sucks, and bites up and down every inch of skin, from shoulder to sternum, from pectoral to pectoral.

His breath is heavy in the still room. She hums to break the silence before asking, “Babe, what are your thoughts on nipple stuff?”

He tries to shrug, but with arms still pinned above his head, it becomes more of a shimmy. “Note sure.” He responds.

“Do you want me to try it?” She asks. Before he can answer, she begins reciting the biological origin of male nipples, from zygote to adult.

He nods patiently, waiting for her to take a breath. When she finally gasps for air, he jumps in. “Maybe just a little.”

She remembers her mission with a soft, “Oh. Right.” and reverts her attention back to his chest. She swings a leg over his thighs and straddles his legs, her face level with his shoulders. Leaning back on her hips, she carefully swipes a thumb against one of his nipples, which hardens at the touch. She looks at his face to see his eyes closed in concentration. Emboldened, she swipes against the nipple again, this time with more force.

He makes an agreeable noise, somewhere in between a cough and a grunt. So, she swipes again, this time catching the nipple in between her thumb and forefinger, applying steady pressure.

His arms wave above his head. “Too much,” he complains, and she lets go. As his body relaxes, she lowers her head and slowly circles the nipple with her tongue. He lets out a surprised, “oh,” and she laps across the nub. He pants-- actually pants-- and she repeats the pattern, alternating between circling with the tip of her tongue and lapping with the flat of it.

By the time his panting turns into a gentle “yeah,” she’s reaching for one of the plastic packets on the other end of the bed. She twists it open and a light clear-pink fluid creeps out. She squeezes out a small amount onto her fingers and transfers that onto his chest. The scent of strawberry fills the air and she sucks her fingers into her mouth, ridding herself of the excess.

“Better than I expected.” She mutters, and quickly returns her attentions to Ray’s nipple. They’re hard and deep red, sticky with saliva and lubricant. Her fingers trace the outer edges of one nipple, testing to find the exact spot where he becomes sensitive. Meanwhile, her mouth sinks back onto the other nipple, sucking and biting ever-so-gently as his skin becomes more and more stimulated by the contact. She glances up to see him staring at her, jaw clenched. She smiles at him, and he grins back weakly, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. She trades mouth and hand, the added lubrication bringing a new sensation to her motions. He begins to mumble incoherently just as the strawberry flavor runs dry, and Felicity pulls back slowly.

He gasps for air as if he’s been underwater for twenty minutes. “Good?” She asks.

He nods, words having evaded him.

She turns her attention to the waistband of his boxers, trying desperately to ignore the flushed cockhead peeking out of his fly. Instead, she presses kisses along the waistband, inching in lower and lower until his hipbones are exposed. She takes gentle bites along the jutting bones, lapping the musky hollows of each in turn. Smiling, she traces kisses along the line of dark hair from his navel down to the patch of coarse brown hair just below the line of his hips. She let her fingers trace the places where the hair thinned out into bare skin, carefully avoiding more intimate contact.

He groans a few feet above her. She carefully replaces the fabric of his boxers to their original position, patting one of his hips for good measure. He groans again, this time a frustrated growl.

Her hands find his thighs, the hidden gem of his already muscular body. She lovingly draws swirls around the solid muscles of his outer thighs, creeping ever-so-carefully inwards, towards the pale, freckled skin in between. She plants a kiss just above each knee, massaging down to his calves and back up the inner line of his legs. He hisses as she nibbles her way along the interior, tasting the sweat of his thighs until she reaches the underside of his groin.

His erection is fighting its way out of his boxers. She traces the apex of his thighs, caressing his balls through the thin cotton of his favorite undergarments. He moans her name at the sensation. Her fingers dance along his hips and back to the waistband of his boxers, slowly and methodically dragging them down. His cock springs free and he wiggles his legs, trying to rid himself of the fabric. But Felicity places a kiss into his hip and he quiets his movements, allowing her to slowly-- very slowly-- drag the offending fabric off his body entirely.

She sits back for a moment, admiring his naked form. His entire upper body is flushed and sweaty, and his chest is a constellation of bite marks and the beginnings of bruises. She scoots herself up to give him a kiss, the musky odor of arousal wrapping around them like a cocoon. His kisses are frantic and hurried, but she steadies him with a careful swipe of her thumb across his chin.

“Still good?” She asks, kissing back down his body.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

She finally reaches his erection, which is emanating heat across both of their bodies. Felicity draws lazy circles around the patch of pubic hair that surrounds it, tugging gently at the roots. She allows her fingers to dance closer and closer to the shaft until she finally touches the hot skin so gently, it might have been an accident.

Instead, she traces a line along the side of his cock, across the head, and down the other side. She repeats the motion, this time from top to bottom. Her fingers form a loose circle around the base of him, sliding gently up to wear the head meets the shaft, then back down again. He thrusts into her hands as she repeats the motion, maintaining just the barest of contact, enough to make him crave something much more substantial.

He moans out, “Felicity” then adds, “use more of the stuff” for good measure.

She retrieves what’s left of the pink liquid, and the room again fills with the scent of strawberries. Her grip tightens with the added sensation, and she speeds her movements, twisting her wrist to change her tempo ever so slightly.

As if on its own, her tongue finds the tip of his erection, a salty-sweet flavor mixing therein. Her hands continue their dance as she takes the head into her mouth, sucking a slow, steady pace. He thrusts again, and she lets her hands fall to brace his hips, her mouth taking over the up-and-down motions he so desperately craves. She exhales, taking him in deeper, swallowing more and more of him while her fingers tease patterns into the place where his thighs meet the rest of his body.

He calls out her name and she responds by pulling herself back. She strokes him once, twice, three times, and he moans, releasing himself onto her chest and hands. His breath comes back to him slow and ragged at first, and then all at once. She grabs a towel off the floor-- without leaving the bed-- and cleans both of them off. Once his breathing has returned to normal, she unties his hands, and he massages his wrists with his newfound freedom.

She curls up next to him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder.

“What was that for?” He asks.

She shrugs. “Just wanted to try something new.”

He laughs. “I like new.”

She yawns and stretches, legs kicking out. “I think you owe me breakfast for that one.”

He glances at her. “Still in bed. Not a chance.”

She playfully smacks his arm and curls back up beside him.


End file.
